


Lavender Shuura

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: A relaxing bath, with Anakin getting washed by Padmé.





	Lavender Shuura

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago and had forgotten about it. I could have expanded it to show all of the bath and Padmé drying Anakin off, but I feel like I've moved on a bit from how purple prose-y this is, and I think that it reads as a nice little drabble as is. I hope it does, anyway lol.
> 
> I'm not putting this in my short fic collection because I wrote this before I started that, and I want the chapters to show a progression of my writing skill, assuming I keep writing long enough for improvement to show.

Anakin tilts his head back, his eyes slipping closed as Padmé slides her fingers through his hair. Her laughter is like bells: light, merry, and the sound of it echoes against the refresher walls. Her laughter commands him to smile with the pure joy of it. 

His body relaxes further with his wife’s touches. Around him, the water is warm. It is scented with one of Padmé’s bath bombs, a gentle lavender from Naboo. The smell mixes with hers. Anakin can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s been so surrounded by his wife. She’s all he can sense; it’s her teasing his nose, her fingers in his hair, her luxurious water he’s sitting in, her gentle words having put him here. She’s even in his head. Thoughts of how good she’s letting him feel, thoughts of how he wants to be good for her swirl hazily through his mind. 

A soft sigh escapes his lips. 

Padmé pulls a hand out of his hair. The strands fall back against his head, curling back now they’re no longer stretched from fingers. His wife’s hand still on him guides him further back. Sounds of water crashing against a larger body start behind him, and Anakin lets himself be guided under. Padmé wets his hair, stray droplets hitting his forehead as she works every strand under the faucet. The weight of his hair grows. It grows and depletes and then stays even as the job is done. 

Echoes of his breathing surround him as the water is shut off. Padmé’s hand cradles his head, locks dripping as she brings him up back into a sitting position. Anakin inhales. Fingers come to trace against his face; her delicate fingers are a blessing, and the last hold on himself melts away. All there is is _Padmé_. He is hers, mind and body and soul. 

A soft murmur telling him he’s a good boy washes over him, warmth catching fire in his veins. Anakin feels his lips part. Padmé pets him, his hair sticking to her fingers as they drag against his head. They’re light on him, and the pull lulls him into sighing under their touch. Padmé slowly trails down to his neck. Her fingertips caress him, stopping to feel his pulse beat. It’s blissfully tranquil, Anakin notes, his wife’s touch drawing his own attention to it. 

Padmé presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. Her lips are wet like she’d just licked them. Anakin turns his head, tilting his head up to face her. He can’t see her, his eyes still closed, but the thrum of her in the Force leads him. Anakin shivers when her lips next press against his brow. Her breath is hot against his face as she pulls away, a rare gentle desert breeze, and her fingers on his neck transform into a grip. The possessive act sucks the air from his lungs. 

His wet hair catches in the hand still cradling his skull as it pulls away. The faint sound of shampoo being pumped fills the air, loud with Anakin’s focus on Padmé’s movements. Little hints of orange mingle with the lavender of the room; the fingers on his neck squeeze before leaving to meet Padmé’s other hand above his head. She massages the shampoo through his hair. Her fingers are soft between the strands, little tugs the only interruption when they get caught. 

Boneless, Anakin whines when the task is done. He’s enveloped with fondness in the Force as he tapers off. Padmé’s affection washes over him, wrapping around his body like the water surrounding him. She once again guides him under the faucet. Her fingers sweep the shampoo out of his hair, orange disappearing from the air as the shampoo is swallowed by the bath sea. 

Anakin inhales. Padmé collects his hair one last time, squeezing water from the strands. The roar of the faucet shuts off, and he’s raised up, his wife’s hands a cradle behind his head. They slip down to his shoulders once he’s righted, pushing him to lean forward. Her fingers linger: soft kisses against his skin, walked all over his back, a quiet worship. The gentleness brings tears to his eyes. 

Padmé leaves his skin, the water around him rippling. She comes to shower it down him. It runs down his back like a lake pushed by a lazy summer’s breeze. A sigh escapes his lips, fingertips ghosting across his skin. Shuura permeates the air as Padmé uncaps the body soap. She rubs it into him, massaging his muscles and wiping away the day. Anakin lets his body sag even more at the feeling. His wife laughs. He smiles at that, at his pleasure amusing her.

The soap gets spread all over him. Padmé dips under the bath water to clean his ass, one hand pushing him to lean so she can get him. Her hands leave for a moment before traveling then to his front, lingering over his heart and flicking his nipples to hear him gasp. Gooseflesh raises the softer and more lingering her touch gets. Anakin sucks in a breath as Padmé swirls soap around his navel, her fingers caressing his skin. 

He slides to rest his back onto the tub basin. Water gently rips with his movement, and further down slip his wife’s skillful fingers. A gasp escapes him as she teases his dick for a moment, amusement spilling from her lips at the sound. Padmé coos praises into his ear, her tone loving and soft and awed as she moves away to wash his legs, and Anakin lets her voice blanket him, lets it warm him. There is nothing he could want for here in the care of her.


End file.
